


Some Things To Get Used To

by Evilpixie



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilpixie/pseuds/Evilpixie
Summary: Good old fashioned Superbat smut.





	

Bruce was bent over the bed.

 

It wasn’t a position he was used to. Quite the contrary. He was used to being the one to bend someone else over the bed. He was used to pinning his partner down and taking what he wanted. But this… this wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. There was something… nice… about being here. About being the one that was being manhandled and pushed down. About focusing not on what he wanted but what he was getting.

 

And at that moment what he was getting was a third finger sliding into him.

 

He gritted his teeth against the sound forcing its way this throat and pressed his forehead into mattress. The stretch was raw, filling, and churned something deep in the pit of his being. Something that made his cock twitch with need and thighs shake with the need to escape.

 

The man behind him chuckled. “You have no idea how fucking sexy you are when you do that.”

 

“Do-ah-what?”

 

The fingers were still moving in and out of him. A lazy slide.

 

“When you try to stop yourself from reacting.”

 

He turned to look over his shoulder. To look up at the man behind him. To look at Clark standing behind him with as much confidence naked as when he wore his cape and costume.

 

Clark met his gaze and smiled. It was the same open friendly smile he would display when speaking to a room of reporters or when saving a kitten from a tree… and something about that made that thing in the base of Bruce’s being clench with need. It shouldn’t surprise him. After all, if the last few weeks proved anything at all it was that Clark wasn’t as much of a boy scout as he’d let Bruce believe.

 

“You – hhmmm – sick sadistic bastard.”

 

Clark’s smile grew and he pushed his fingers into Bruce a little harder. “What was that, Bruce?” The force, the weight, the stretch… and all of it grazing against but not pressing on his prostate. “That didn’t sound very polite.”

 

He shuddered and turned his face back to pant into the bedding. “Fuck I… I…”

 

 “Yes I will fuck you,” Clark sounded like he always did. Friendly. Open. Conversational almost. “I think that’s only fair. You fucked me last night. Now it’s the morning.” He moved his hips forward to press the hard length of his penis against Bruce’s thigh. “Now it’s my turn.”

 

“Yes,” Bruce heard himself hiss. “Yes…”

 

Being inside Clark for the first time had been the single most erotic experience of his life. The way the man had moved on his cock, cried out, and come in slow shuddering bursts between them… it was more than he could have ever possibly prepared for. Clark was more than he could have ever possibly prepared for. This… this was more...

 

Bruce grunted as Clark pulled out his fingers. The lack inside him was almost painful after such intense pressure. He was about to complain when he felt the icy touch of fresh lube splash down onto his entrance. The heavy probe of Clark’s fingers slipped around and inside him with a deftness that spoke of practice. Clark repeated the process and pressed a kiss onto the back of Bruce’s neck as he slipped those fingers back inside him, wet and working him open with deliberate force.

 

Bruce bit his bottom lip and tried to ignore the twinge of nervousness he felt at the change of gears. Right now. Clark wanted to have sex with him – to top him – right now. And that was okay. More than okay. He wanted it. Had been thinking about it since they first kissed – messy and open – a couple of weeks before. Since they started this strange new thing which consisted of tenderness, togetherness, and raw sexual desire.

 

But, the truth was, despite his original assumptions, it was quickly becoming apparent that Clark had more experience with men than he did. It wasn’t that he was virginal. He had both topped and bottomed during anal sex before. But both anal and men weren’t typically found in his sexual history while Clark… Clark was very clearly in his element. Clark was comfortable. Clark was…

 

“Hey,” Clark leant forward to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “You’ve gone quiet. You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he rasped and propped himself up on his elbows. “Yeah I’m just… getting ready.”

 

He caught a flash of Clark’s grin out the corner of his eye. “Oh you’re _ready_ , babe.” Clark’s fingers swirled inside him. “I could put a fourth finger in but, well, we want you to still feel something when I go in, don’t we?”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Bruce grunted. “You could put a fist in me and I would still feel that cock.”

 

“Hm,” Clark pressed closer against him. Every part of him perfectly beautifully hard. “One day I will test that theory.”

 

The fingers slipped out of him.

 

“For now…”

 

Something else started slipping in.

 

Bruce struggled to swallow his moan as Clark entered him for the first time. He did it slowly. Inch by torturous inch. Torturous not because he wasn’t prepared – he was – but because every part of him was twitching with nervous need. Desperate both to push Clark off and to pull him in deeper. To _feel_ him deeper.

 

It was heat, it was weight, it was something throbbing deep inside him. It was Clark… Clark holding Bruce’s hip still with a lazy abuse of super strength, Clark panting with want as he continued to bury himself in him, Clark whispering in his ear…

 

“This is the first time you’ve been fucked isn’t it?”

 

“Not quite,” Bruce answered.

 

“It won’t be the last,” the man promised and slid himself home.

 

Bruce groaned and shuffled his legs further apart. Opening himself up to the feeling.

 

“Good boy,” Clark said as if that were something completely natural and normal for him to say. As if that weren’t something that was designed to mess with Bruce’s head as well as other parts of his body.

 

“Fuck you,” Bruce managed to snarl back.

 

Clark just grinned. That same grin he had been grinning since the start of this… then he fucked him.

 

It wasn’t rough but it wasn’t overly gentle either. Just a steady consistent _slam slam slam_ that rubbed against places inside him he didn’t even know he had.

 

He clenched his hands into fists, dropped his forehead to rest against his forearms, and tried not to flinch as his suddenly over sensitive cock was chaffed against the corner of the mattress with every thrust. Every ounce of energy he had went into holding himself still and steady. To swallowing the sounds that threatened to still from his lips and the tell-tale movement of muscle that would tell Clark how much this was getting to him.

 

Clark laughed again. Breathless this time. But still… still it was Clark’s laugh. Superman’s laugh. That stupidly out of place sound that he knew he would never be able to hear again and not think of this moment. The moment he was first fucked by Clark Kent

 

 “You’re doing it again.”

 

“Wh-Wha…” he couldn’t say it. He did have enough control to hold himself steady and talk at the same time.

 

“Trying to stop yourself from reacting,” Clark answered anyway and pushed in deeper.

 

Bruce groaned. Low and deep. The first utterly unchastened sound to leave his throat. “Fuck… you…” After that he seemed to have lost the ability to control all of the noises he made. They fell from his lips. Soft moans, grunts, and gasps of not-quite-pain which did nothing to slow down the steady brutal beat of the other man’s cock inside him.

 

It was only when Clark slammed deep into him that he said the word that changed everything.

 

“Fuh… Clark…”

 

At the sound of his name Clark paused… and then his hands were on Bruce. One lifted his hips up to a new brutal angle as the other planted itself between his shoulders and pushed his face down into the mattress.

 

He was going faster now. Almost too fast. The slide of his shaft against Bruce’s entrance edging on raw.

 

But that was exactly what Bruce needed.

 

He came without a single other touch. Dribbling down onto the mattress below him with a series of violent convolutions which seemed to only magnify pinned as he was, unable to move.

 

Clark wasn’t far behind.

 

Bruce blinked dazed into the mattress as he felt the other man shudder and fill him with a few last messy rolls of his hips.

 

He had never come without being touched before. Never been milked… let alone by someone as big as Clark. The feeling was disconcerting… or it would have been if his brain had been working well enough to register feelings. All he could do at that moment was pant, twitch, and shudder as Clark carefully withdrew.

 

“Hey,” the mattress moved as Clark settled himself behind him. “Was that good?”

 

“Yeah…” he managed.

 

“Good. Because, you know Bruce, you’re a little hard to read sometimes. I… I’m not always sure with you.”

 

“I’m not always sure myself,” Bruce rasped. A surprising spark of honesty he hadn’t intended to let out. “But I… you do things to me…”

 

A hand against his hair. “Good things?”

 

“Good things…” he looked up. “Amazing things.” _Terrifying things._ But things Bruce couldn’t help but reach for.

 

Because despite all his years of training… he had never had much self-control. Especially not when faced with things he wanted.

 

Clark was lying beside him looking – frustratingly – put together. His hair wasn’t messy, his skin wasn’t sweaty… the only evidence of their encounter was the lingering smell of sex and his incredible naked body stretched and sated across the sheets beside him.

 

Clark smiled at him… and Bruce kissed that smile. That perfectly innocent smile that he wore when saving kittens from trees, when giving speeches at the UN, and when fucking him down into his mattress. That smile which was so inconspicuous but also so totally Clark’s that he knew he would recognise it anywhere. That smile which, over the last few months, somehow made him agree to let Clark stay over late… and then later… and then later again…

 

Clark groaned and pulled Bruce closer to deepen the kiss. It was dry. Inelegant. Lips rasping against lips. Tongues scraping against tongues.

 

“Tonight,” Bruce rasped as they parted. “My turn.”

 

Clark’s eyes sparkled. “And tomorrow morning?”

 

“Still my turn.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Your turn,” Bruce said. “Happens when I say.”

 

“And when is that?”

 

“When I say.”

 

Clark laughed and pushed a second brisker kiss onto his lips. It made something inside him flutter in a way the deeper kiss hadn’t. Something brisk and terrifying.

 

“You’re such a bastard,” Clark said against his mouth. “A beautiful bastard. But still a bastard.”

 

“Hm,” Bruce pushed himself onto his feet and – with a flinch – straightened himself out. He answered without looking Clark in the eye. “You’ll get used to it.”


End file.
